What If I Was Wrong?
by Qweb
Summary: Danny Williams knew that the man he'd killed was not Steve McGarrett. Though confused and ill from being beaten and drugged, Danny was sure that the man with McGarrett's face was an impostor. But what if he was wrong?
1. After

_Author's Note: I think I've filled in the last gap in this story, so we can begin. This is set in first season after the tsunami episode because that's when I first had the idea, though I had a hard time pulling it together. _

**Chapter 1 - After**

Danny Williams knew the scent of his partner.

Oh, ha ha, he thought without mirth. If he said that aloud, he could imagine Kono Kalakaua's mildly lascivious smirk. But Chin Ho Kelly would nod understanding.

When you spent hours in a car in overheated Honolulu, you got to know your partner's scent. At least you did if you were a detective. That's all he meant.

Danny knew the smell of Steve McGarrett fresh in the morning, still carrying a hint of saltwater from his morning swim that his scentless soap couldn't eradicate. He knew the smell of Steve's honest sweat from a foot chase through the blistering streets and the stale sweat of too many hours on stakeout in the back of a closed van. Danny knew the variations, too, from the permutations of his partner's daily activities: motor oil and gun oil, charcoal smoke, beer and grilled fish and teriyaki burgers with, god help him, extra pineapple.

Not to mention antiseptic, antibiotics and blood.

Blood.

He'd seen his partner bleeding more than once and smelled that sickening, coppery tang.

Danny glanced down at the floor beside him — not a distant look because he was sitting on it. The detective shivered and tried to pull his shattered, shambling thoughts together.

No, he tried to reassure himself, he knew Steve's scent.

Even though he was sick and dizzy and confused, he held to that belief. Just because he'd been drugged, didn't mean he was crazy.

If it walks like a McGarrett and talks like a McGarrett, then it's a McGarrett, right? But if it doesn't smell like a McGarrett?

Danny shivered and hunched backwards into the corner, wincing at every stab of pain, whimpering at the agony in his leg. He looked again at the gun in his hand, at the familiar face of the man on the floor, at the top of the man's head, blown away by a bullet from the gun in his hand.

No! It had looked like a McGarrett and talked like a McGarrett, but it wasn't. It wasn't Danny's partner, Danny's friend, Danny's brother. It wasn't! Drugged or not, injured or not, Danny knew it wasn't Steve.

But what if he was wrong?

Alone on the floor in a corner of a boarded up shack — alone except for a corpse with a familiar face — Danny Williams moaned and turned his face to the wall.

What if he was wrong?

**To Be Continued**


	2. Before

_Wow! Thanks for all the flattering reviews. It took me forever to get this story written because I'm more comfortable with action and humor. Angst comes hard and this story is nothing but. It's also not a linear story but the chapter titles will give you a vague idea of the order of events. Vague, because Danny only has a vague idea of what day it is. And, yes, we will get to the rest of the team eventually, but don't think that will end the angst._

**Chapter 2 – Before**

Time passed, a couple of days, Danny guessed but it was impossible to tell when the Tiger Twins in their stupid striped shirts beat him unconscious then drugged him unconscious and then beat him some more. They gave him no food but occasionally poured water (drugged, of course) down his throat so he had to swallow it or drown.

His head spun and he burned and shivered by turns as if he had a terrible fever.

Danny's emotions were all over the place. He blamed it on the concussion he knew he must have and the drugs that made him sweat and twitch. He knew it, but couldn't control it. It was like riding a wild horse or trying to surf the Banzai Pipeline. One still, small observer in his mind held aloof, recognizing the problem and locking down the words his enemies wanted to hear, because a life was at stake, maybe two — three if he counted his own. For the rest, Danny had never been afraid to show his emotions. He threw them in his captors' faces. He cursed and giggled, wept in heartbreak and raged in fury.

But he never answered their question.

Not for two days.

Not even when they broke his leg.

The femur in his right leg.

With a crowbar.

Danny passed out from the pain. When he woke, he was no longer tied to a chair. In fact the chair was gone, as were the two Hawaiians. Danny was lying on the bare wooden floor of the bare room. There was no furniture, no rug, no lamps. The only light came through small cracks between the boards that covered up the windows.

He had all his clothes, even his tie and his shoes, but there was nothing in his pockets, even his wristwatch was missing, so he couldn't judge the passing minutes except by the rhythmic pounding of his head.

His leg also throbbed, unless he tried to move it, whereupon it screamed in agony. He could feel the broken ends of his thighbone grating against each other, but thankfully they hadn't slipped out of alignment. Still, he didn't have a prayer of walking on it. But the way his head spun from the drugs, he probably couldn't have walked anyway. His bruised and beaten body ached, but nothing else seemed to be broken. The sharpest sting came from a mere cut lip and a puncture mark on his arm where he must have been injected recently.

Swell, more drugs.

On the bright side, no one was beating him at the moment.

He was entirely alone, until the two Hawaiians yanked open the door, letting painfully bright sunlight flood into the room. Danny raised his hand to protect his watering eyes and saw the two tormentors throw Steve McGarrett into the room and slam the door again.

* * *

"No, no, no," Danny sobbed, dragging himself to his fallen friend who lay limp and unmoving. "No. Steve!"

"Are they gone?" Steve asked quietly, without opening his eyes.

Danny wept with relief. "Yes." He wiped his eyes with his forearm.

Steve opened his baby blues and scanned the room without moving. Satisfied they were alone, he bounded to his feet and quickly checked the door. "Locked," he said unnecessarily.

Steve came back to his battered friend and crouched beside him, one hand on Danny's shoulder. "You OK? I mean, you've looked better." He mouth quirked, trying win an answering smile from Danny.

"Felt better," Danny admitted. He gulped to control himself and said in a semblance of a normal, scolding tone. "What are you doing here? I was counting on you to rescue me!"

Steve grinned and shrugged. "I let them capture me," he said easily. "It seemed like the quickest way to find you. I can get out anytime," he said confidently. "Navy SEAL, remember?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "You know you're insane, right?"

"Yeah, I missed you, too." Steve squeezed his friend's shoulder. "I'm going to get you out of here, Danny."

Danny clawed at Steve's knee. "Go. You've got to go. I'll only slow you down."

Danny cudgeled his hazy brain to marshal his arguments. Steve took the "leave no man behind" philosophy seriously. But Danny couldn't walk, couldn't even stand. His leg was broken. He reeled like a drunken man just trying to sit up. He would be worse than dead weight in an escape. Steve could make better time without him and could bring back help.

Danny opened his mouth to explain, but was forestalled when Steve agreed with him.

"I can't take you with me," Steve said. "But I'll be back as quick as I can with help."

Danny was shaken to his core. Steve would abandon him, without argument. Steve would take the sensible course and call for backup and rescue. In his confusion, Danny wondered if he'd actually made his arguments out loud and persuaded Steve to be sensible. That would be a first, he thought with an inward chuckle.

"Not like you to actually listen to me," Danny said.

"I listen, when you're right. You're just usually wrong," Steve answered.

Danny huffed a laugh, then clutched his stomach as a spasm of cramps rippled through him.

"Breathe. Breathe," Steve soothed, holding Danny's shoulders to support him. "Slowly."

This close, Danny noticed bruises on Steve's face, a swollen cheek and a split lip that was just scabbing over.

"I guess you met the Tiger Twins," Danny said, touching the split lip. "You hurt?"

Steve shrugged. "I've had worse. They were asking me about some old case of yours from New Jersey, but they seemed to believe me when I said I had no idea. I think they plan to use me as leverage to make you talk, but I don't plan to stay around to find out. What's it all about, anyway? Is someone else in danger? Is there someone else I should warn?"

Danny thought about the case. It had started so long ago with a call out to a drive-by shooting at the home of a known gangster, the son of one of the most powerful mob bosses in a state known for mob bosses. Patrol Officer Danny Williams interviewed the scared young wife, the mob boss' daughter-in-law, whose two-year-old daughter clung to her. A new father himself, Danny treated Helen Kaminsky like a human being instead of a criminal. She didn't know anything and her husband stonewalled the cops, as they expected. The investigation didn't get anywhere and several back-and-forth retaliatory shootings later, the incident faded from mind.

Until Helen called Danny one day and offered to give information about her father-in-law. She was a widow now, her husband killed in one of those shootings. She wanted the violence to end before it claimed her child.

Danny was the only cop she trusted. He arranged for her to talk to a trustworthy judge. She didn't dare testify against her father-in-law in open court and she didn't know much that was really damaging, but she'd accidentally discovered where he hid his records. It was enough for the judge to issue a search warrant. The evidence in his papers was sufficient to bring down the mob boss, but even from jail he'd had enough clout to try to find the person who'd given away his secrets. He never suspected Helen.

Last Danny heard, she was making a new life out of the mob's shadow. The boss wasn't much interested the woman and her girl. A grandson would have been different, but a granddaughter was hardly worth thinking about. Kaminsky would have no trouble executing the mother of his granddaughter if he found out she was responsible.

Everyone involved in the case was under a gag order to not reveal the circumstances, especially the name of the witness. Even Danny's involvement should have been secret. Somehow the mob boss' people had learned Danny's name. Now they were after Helen's.

Sick from the beatings, confused by drugs and weakened by sudden hope, Danny almost told Steve about Helen. He'd worry about the judge's gag order later. He trusted Steve like a brother.

And he teased him like a brother.

"Sorry. Can't tell you. It's classified," he joked weakly.

And Steve made the wrong face.

Danny expected exasperation and "we don't have time to fool around now," but he got fond indulgence. Danny gaped in shock. He'd only seen Steve's indulgent face once, directed at Grace on Christmas Day. Why, Steve almost looked like he understood what Danny meant! How could that be?

Memories of movies about pod people and robot impersonators slithered through the fog in Danny's brain, but the detective came to the fore. The detective needed more evidence.

"Steve" saw Danny go pale with shock.

"Hey, you going to be sick?" he asked in concern.

"No, dizzy," Danny complained, which was the truth. He let himself fall and trusted the Steve impostor to catch him, which he did.

"Easy, Danny. Take it easy."

So close to his suspect, the detective looked for any discrepancies. Was that a faint plastic surgery scar at the corner of the mouth? Did the voice have a faint accent? Didn't that "take" sound a bit like "tyke," a little bit Australian?

But it was Danny's nose that picked up the telling clues. There was a hint of aftershave and a manly scented soap, when the former commando habitually used unscented soap and deodorant so the enemy couldn't smell him coming. And there was a whiff of gin, which was three times wrong because Steve couldn't abide the flavor of gin, rarely drank anything stronger than beer and wouldn't dull his senses when his best friend was missing.

Danny's head lolled back against the shoulder of this man who smelled all wrong.

This wasn't Steve at all. It was just a different sort of interrogation.

* * *

Covertly studying his false friend, Danny spotted a pocket in the cargo pants that seemed weighed down. His captors had taken everything in Danny's pockets. They would have searched Steve, right? They wouldn't have left him with something so heavy.

As "Steve" tried to settle Danny more comfortably, Danny slipped his hand into the leg pocket and pulled out a small, flat automatic, a perfect hideout pistol.

"Is that a gun in your pocket, Steve, or are you just glad to see me?" Danny said coldly.

Steve shrugged easily. "I lifted that off one of the guards. I told you I could get out whenever I wanted." And damned if he didn't smirk a genuine McGarrett smirk.

Uncertain all over again, Danny hesitated. Was this the real McGarrett? Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was wrong.

"Come on, Danno," Steve said kindly. "The way you're shaking, you might hurt someone. Better give it back."

The bigger man caught the gun to bend it gently out of Danny's hands. He knew Danny was badly injured and couldn't put up much of a fight. Despite thinking that, he forgot that Danny was badly injured. As "Steve" twisted the gun, Danny's whole body twisted. The broken ends of his femur slipped apart. Danny screamed in agony, his hands clenched convulsively around the trigger.

The blast was loud, louder than he expected from the small gun. Steve's grip dragged Danny down, crashing to the floor in a red wave of pain. Wheezing for long, long moments, Danny sagged across a motionless pair of legs. Eventually the detective rolled to his back and laboriously pushed himself backwards until he could sit in the corner braced against the wall. Panting, head swimming, he wiped the back of his hand across his sweating face and surveyed the scene in front of him — the still body with the familiar face and a mess of gray and red where the top of his head should be.

"And don't call me, Danno," the detective whispered while tears ran down his face.

**To Be Continued**


	3. Later

**Chapter 3 - Later**

Exhausted, Danny waited for the Tiger Twins to respond to the gunshot. It was several long, tense moments before he realized no one was coming. He and the dead impostor were alone in the building.

Danny's sluggish brain mulled this over for quite awhile, before a sudden hope sparked. Maybe, maybe the door wasn't locked. Why would Fake Steve lock himself in?

The detective patted down the body, trying not to look at the ruined head. He found nothing in the many pockets of the cargo pants. No key, no ID, not even a lint covered stick of gum.

Then Danny looked at the door. The cabin was small. The door was just a few steps away. But a few steps looked like a mountain to climb when you had a broken femur.

A stray thought crossed Danny's mind — damn the Internet! He remembered seeing that broken femurs were most often fatal injuries before traction splints were invented. Even now, if a jagged bone end sliced his femoral artery, he'd bleed out internally, which seemed even more painful and horrifying than bleeding out via a gunshot wound.

He knew he ought to splint his leg, but the room was empty of anything useful. He had nothing to work with but himself. He struggled to remove his belt — so difficult when you're trying to hold your hips entirely still — and used it and his necktie to fasten his legs together, his uninjured leg serving as a splint for the other. He felt like a merman.

Dizzy and ill though he was, Danny resolutely turned his eyes away from the corpse with Steve's face. He began to elbow-drag himself to the door. He tried to use only his arms, but it was impossible to keep his broken leg entirely still. Every move sent a surge of agony through his body. Pain washed to and fro like waves lapping on the beach.

After each heave forward, he had to pause, gasping, trying to breathe through the pain. Then before he could lose his nerve, he dragged himself forward again pushing the pistol along the floor as he went.

Consumed in agony, Danny couldn't tell how long the short but excruciating journey lasted, but eventually his head bumped the sturdy wooden door. He looked up at the doorknob, impossibly far above his head. If it was locked, he was done. He untied his legs, turned onto his left side and gathered his uninjured leg beneath him. Taking a deep breath that was almost a sob, Danny lunged upward. It felt like his right leg was being torn in half. Danny screamed, but caught the doorknob.

It turned!

He sobbed with relief and gratitude as the knob turned and the door creaked open just a crack, letting in a ray of morning sun.

Danny hung there, swaying, looking down at the floor so unbearably far away. With a sigh of resignation, he closed his eyes and let go.

The fall sent a thunderbolt of pain through Danny's abused body. He collapsed gratefully unconscious beside the open door.

* * *

The insistent throb in his thigh prodded him awake again an indeterminate amount of time later. The sun was past zenith now, no longer shining in the door, but a breeze cooled Danny's sweat soaked shirt, giving him the strength to take action again.

Moving as little as possible, Danny bound his legs together again, then he pushed the door open.

He saw a weathered wooden porch surrounded by a low wooden railing. His old enemy the wooden chair sat there. Beyond it, he could see the tops of trees, but Danny couldn't see much beyond that because of his position on the floor. Hope gave him strength to drag himself out where he might find neighbors or passing motorists. He pulled himself to the edge of the porch and peered between the railing posts.

He saw open ground and a dirt road that disappeared into distant trees. The only sign of humanity was tire tracks in the dirt.

There were no vehicles in sight.

No neighbors.

No passersby.

No help.

Danny dropped his head to his forearm and wept.

He was done.

* * *

_**Next time we leave Danny's angst for the team's angst and you'll finally find out for sure whether Danny was wrong.**_


	4. Beginning

_Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews. Sorry I haven't been as diligent in replying as usual, but work's been heck for two months and after being on a computer at work all day at double speed, I just don't want to get on a computer after I get home. Now things are settling down, I hope. Maybe I can get some more writing done._

_Just a reminder, this story is set first season. Danny's still wearing ties, Jameson is governor, etc. This is set at Danny's first apartment, which looks like heaven compared to some of the places he's lived since. Now we'll see what's going on with the rest of the ohana and we'll kickstart their angst._

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Beginning**

His kidnapping was well timed. Danny was missing for 63 hours before anyone realized it.

It wasn't his weekend with Grace and he didn't even expect a phone call from her, because of the time difference. Stan and Rachel had taken her to St. Louis. Stan would attend a business meeting while Rachel and Grace visited the Gateway Arch and saw the Budweiser Clydesdales.

It was Steve's reserve weekend and he would be spending it at Pearl Harbor teaching underwater demolition. Kono was off to the North Shore to root for her Coral Prince friends at a surfing competition and Chin was reconnecting with family, now that he and Cousin Sid had come to an understanding.

Danny expected to spend a blissfully quiet weekend at home, watching sports on TV, maybe going out to see the latest action thriller (though that wouldn't be as much fun without a friend to make snide comments to).

The attack came out of nowhere.

Danny pulled the Camaro into his parking spot. He waved at the little girl on the swings in the tiny playground nearby. He saw his new neighbor and a man who looked enough like him to be his brother, maybe even his twin, unloading furniture from the back of a van. A stack of kitchen pots and pans were on top of the trunk, but when one man put a foot wrong, they tumbled off.

"I'll get them," Danny offered.

"Thanks, detective," said the new tenant, Mark, who had been introduced to Danny by the landlord two evenings earlier.

"Danny, remember," the detective said good-naturedly, as he picked up two frying pans and a saucepan.

"Danny," the muscular Hawaiian accepted. "This is my brother Luke. He's helping me move in."

"Nice to have family to impose on," Danny joked, as he went inside Mark's apartment.

The brothers, who wore identical striped shirts, set down the heavy trunk with identical sighs of relief.

"Where do you want these?" Danny asked.

"The dresser there will do for now," Mark said.

Danny turned to set down the pans and Luke shoved Danny's head into the edge of the dresser. Danny fell, astonished and half-unconscious already. He clawed out his gun, but Mark casually kicked it away.

"Thanks for the help, Danny," he said, then kicked the detective in the temple.

Danny dropped, out cold. Luke took a preloaded hypodermic out of the dresser drawer and pumped the full load into Danny's arm. Luke searched Danny, removing his ID, phone, keys, wristwatch and backup gun with ankle holster and leaving them all neatly on the dresser. Then the two men tipped a stack of books out of the trunk and loaded the limp detective in.

The men had been wearing work gloves the whole time, so they didn't even bother to wipe the room for fingerprints. They simply carried the trunk out to the van, locked the apartment door behind them and drove away.

The little girl on the swings saw them carry out the trunk, but was called into dinner before the van drove away; so she didn't realize that Danny never came out of the apartment.

* * *

The snatch took less than half an hour. It was 63 hours later when Chin looked at the clock and wondered why Danny was late for work.

"Danny say anything about being late, Steve? Is that why you drove separately?"

Concentrating on trying to find a pattern in a series of high profile robberies, Steve took a moment to register what Chin had said. After a glance at the clock, concern quickened in the commander's eyes.

"No, I didn't know whether I'd get home last night or stay at the base until this morning, so we didn't plan to meet."

"I hope he's not sick," Kono said. "Though he would have called..."

They could all think of simple scenarios. Sick all night and only falling asleep at dawn. Or maybe a flat tire and a dead cellphone. But, they could think of more frightening ones: home invasion, heart attack, attack by an old enemy, fall in the shower — Danny lying unconscious and alone for an entire weekend.

Steve was already dialing Danny's cell. It rang, but then went to voicemail. "No answer, but the phone's not dead," Steve interpreted.

Chin quickly called up the phone's location on the smart table. "He's still at home, or his phone is, anyway," he reported.

That wasn't much comfort. The majority of accidents happen in the home. Kono picked up her car keys, but waited for Steve's decision.

"Let's go," Steve decided. "Crime stats can wait. But if he's OK, he's in trouble," Steve muttered. Yet they all hoped Danny was OK.

Steve knew their hopes were in vain when he saw the door to Danny's apartment shut, but not fully latched. He pulled out his gun. China and Kono followed suit. They looked worried, frightened even; but Steve's eyes were cold with concentration. The fear for his friend compressed into a tiny, solid lump at the base of his throat. His eyes showed only grim determination. He nudged the door open.

With hand gestures the Five-0 officers spread out through the tiny apartment. It hardly took a minute to scan the one room and peek into the bathroom.

"Clear," everyone reported.

Good news and bad news. There was no sign of Danny, but there was no body and no blood either.

Kono reached for the fast food bag on the table beside the door.

"Gloves!" Chin snapped, more harshly than normal, but this was Danny missing.

The rookie was forcibly reminded that this wasn't Danny's apartment now; it was a crime scene. Flushing with embarrassment, Kono snatched her fingers back as if they'd been burned.

While Steve prowled through the apartment like a caged cat and Chin called for HPD assistance, Kono pulled on latex gloves and checked the bag. The burger and fries were stone cold and looked untouched. She fished out a receipt with two fingers.

"Friday night," she reported. "Less than half an hour after he left headquarters."

Fear and guilt warred with each other in all their hearts. Danny had been missing all weekend, and none of his friends had noticed.

"His keys are right here, too," Kono said. "But I don't see his phone."

Yet they traced his phone to this address.

They all searched through the apartment, looking under the foldout couch and checking under its cushions. Nothing.

"I don't think he got past the front door," Chin said, when they gathered again to stare at the burger bag and discarded keys. "He set his stuff down and went back out. To the car?"

"But where's his phone?" Kono said. "It's supposed to be here."

"We need to check the Camaro," Steve said.

"And there are a lot of other apartments at this address," Chin reminded them.

Steve stalked out, headed for the manager's office, but diverted when he saw the man leaving another apartment carrying a plunger and tool kit.

"Commander? Something wrong?" The manager had met Steve at Danny's a couple of times.

"Detective Williams is missing," Steve said curtly. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Carlo Dominic's eyes automatically flashed to the silver Camaro sitting in its assigned spot. "He's not in his apartment?"

"No."

"I don't …" The manager thought. "I haven't seen him since Thursday morning. He was on his way to work and I introduced him to a new tenant." His arm flapped in the direction of a nearby unit. He frowned at the empty parking space associated with the apartment. "I guess he's not home. His truck's not there. He's probably gone to work."

A little girl passing by broke away from her mother and ran to Steve.

"Are you talking about Gracie's daddy?"

Steve folded himself down to the girl's level.

"Yes, we are. Have you seen him?"

"I saw him come home Friday night," Jenny said confidently. "He waved at me. He was helping the new guy move in." She pointed at the same apartment the manager had indicated.

"Did you see Detective Williams come out of the apartment, honey?" Chin asked.

"Mommy called me in for dinner," the girl said apologetically. "But … I saw the new guy take a trunk out of his apartment and put it back in his truck. That was kind of funny, wasn't it? He and his brother had only just carried it inside."

The child recognized this was out of the ordinary, but didn't associate it with the missing detective. But all the adults looked horrified.

"Thank you, sweetie. You've been a big help," Kono said. "You'd better go with your mother now."

Jenny's mother clutched her daughter to her side and hurried back to the apartment where she would double-lock the door.

When they'd gone, Steve demanded that the manager open the apartment under question. Though he found Steve intimidating, Dominic insisted he couldn't open the door without a search warrant.

"She's just a little girl. There's no reason to believe Detective Williams is in there."

Suddenly they heard the sound of a Beach Boys song playing inside. Kono held up her phone. "That's Danny's ringtone for me," the Surfer Girl said.

The three Five-0 officers glared at the manager, but he was already fishing out his master key. That was proof enough for him.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	5. Monday

**Chapter 5 - Monday**

Bristling with impatience, Steve shifted his weight back. Chin caught his arm before Steve's free foot could lash past the manager to snap the door lock.

"Easy, brah, when Danny comes home he won't appreciate it if you've made an enemy of the apartment manager."

The "when Danny comes home" did as much to cool Steve's anxiety as Chin's firm grip. Besides, the manager had gotten the door open by that time.

The officers shoved past, guns drawn. Dominic didn't protest this rudeness, glad to retreat to a safe distance. He'd found a corpse once and once was plenty. If there was another here, it wasn't likely to be an elderly woman who'd gone peacefully to sleep and never woken.

But there was no corpse and no gunfire. Like Danny's place, the suspect apartment was empty. Scratch that. It was more than empty. It was unlived in.

There were a couple of pieces of furniture haphazardly placed and a heap of old books dumped on the floor — and a pile of Danny's possessions on the bureau. Cell phone, wallet, gun and holster, badge, silver pen that was a present from Grace, notebook, loose coins, small ceramic dog lucky charm made by Grace when she was six — everything Danny normally carried in his pockets was there. Steve's hand hovered over the dog, then, clenching his fist, he backed away from the evidence.

"Hey, Dominic! Come in here!" McGarrett ordered.

Dominic entered cautiously.

"This your furniture?"

The manager shook his head vigorously. "No, it's an unfurnished apartment."

"And I assume these books don't belong here," Kono said. The manager agreed.

"HPD's here," Chin called from the door.

"Bring them in here," Steve said. "This is where they grabbed Danny."

Giving instructions to the forensics team, Steve didn't register that Chin hadn't come back until the older man finally walked in.

"That little Jenny is a real people watcher," Chin said in admiration. "I got some more details from her — with her mother's permission. "She was in the swings watching for Danny. She was hoping this was a Grace weekend and the two girls could play for a while after dinner. So she saw everything. Unfortunately she's not as interested in cars. The new tenant drove a black SUV. She doesn't know what kind and couldn't see the license plate from the swing set."

"What did she have to say about the new guy?"

"Aweau," Dominic contributed. "Mark Aweau."

"He and another man — Jenny said they looked like brothers — got here about 5. They wore blue jeans and red and white striped polo shirts, with red collars and heavy gloves like the ones Jenny's mother uses for gardening."

The officers were impressed by Jenny's powers of observation.

"They moved a dresser and a desk in, didn't seem to be in any hurry. Maybe waiting for Danny," Chin surmised. "When Danny pulled up, the brothers started carrying in a heavy trunk that had some pots and pans on it. The pots fell off. Danny picked them up and went with the men into the apartment. That's when Jenny's mother called her in for dinner. But as she was going in, she saw the men carry the trunk out again and it seemed just as heavy as when it went in."

Steve and Chin exchanged foreboding looks. Their friend had been in that trunk.

"Got blood on the edge of the dresser here," one of the techs reported. "A little more on the floor. Just smears."

Steve looked at the smears, considered his partner's height and mimed banging a head against the dresser and then made a sweeping gesture down to the floor. The tech followed the pantomime. "Yes, it looks about right for someone Detective Williams' height."

"So they took him down," Steve said bleakly. "Then…"

"Found this under the dresser," a second tech contributed, holding up a syringe.

"A hit to daze him, then drugs to knock him out," Chin said.

Steve clenched his jaw in restrained fury.

"I think I've got something, boss," Kono said. She was sitting on the floor, carefully going through each of the discarded books. "Several of these have bookplates in the front — property of Lester Kinneson."

"It's a place to start," Steve agreed. "Better check on this Kinneson."

"Already did," Kono answered surprisingly. She held up her smartphone. "I did a Google search and came up with an announcement for an estate sale held two weeks ago on the North Shore."

"Would that be Marvel Auction House?" the second tech asked from his position on the floor beside the dresser.

It was Kono's turn to be surprised. "Yes, how did you know?"

"This bureau has a Marvel Auction label on the back."

Chin nodded. "So if you want some cheap furniture that you can use as window dressing, then discard …"

"Maybe you check out an estate sale," Steve finished. "Chin, you stay here with the crime lab. Go over Danny's apartment after you're done here. Just in case. Look for bugs, too."

Chin nodded. This was obviously no spur of the moment job. The kidnappers had bought the furniture two weeks ago and signed a lease for an apartment near Danny's. It wouldn't be surprising if they'd had Danny under surveillance, too.

* * *

"Mr. Marvel, we're interested in a lot of furniture from the Kinneson estate sale," Kono told the auction house owner, while Steve paced in angry anxiety.

"Kinneson," the tall, upright man with prematurely white hair said thoughtfully. "A big house crammed with furniture. None of it worth much, but we got a decent amount for the heirs when we were finished." He nodded to himself. "Yes, I remember the Kinneson sale. What items are you interested in and why?"

"A trunk full of books," Kono ventured. It seemed logical. "This dresser and this desk." She showed him photos on her phone, then gave the ID numbers off the furniture labels.

Marvel began to type the codes into his computer.

"And do you have a search warrant?" he asked.

"No, but if I need to get one …" Steve began a growled threat, but Kono's fingers on his arm stopped him.

"Not helping, boss. I know you're worried about Danny, but Mr. Marvel hasn't done anything wrong."

Steve bent his head and sucked in a deep, calming breath. "You're right. I'm sorry." It was the three days that were eating at Steve. Three days his friend had been in danger and he hadn't known.

Steve addressed the owner, "We have reason to believe this furniture was used as window dressing to trap a police detective and kidnap him."

"And he's a friend." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. He's been gone since Friday night and none of us knew until this morning," Steve said.

Marvel heard the guilt and nodded; then as his computer search finished, he sighed.

"I don't know if this will help. These two pieces of furniture, a trunk with books, a box of kitchen utensils and three chairs sold for $207. It was a cash transaction. No ID required."

Steve's shoulders sagged and he turned away.

"However," Marvel continued, bringing Steve's head around with a snap. "We do have surveillance video."

**To Be Continued, of course**


	6. Still Monday

**Chapter 6 – Still Monday**

"However," Marvel continued, bringing Steve's head around with a snap. "We do have surveillance video."

Steve swung back to face him and Kono moved up eagerly.

"Even in a small estate sale like this, we take in a tempting amount of cash," Marvel explained.

He used the receipt code to find the correct video file — date, time, register 2. "Here we are."

Steve and Kono crowded forward to see two big Hawaiians, enough alike to be brothers. They were paying in cash. One man was keeping an eye on the furniture, so he never turned his face to the camera. But the one who paid the cashier was clearly visible.

"May I?" Kono asked, fingers poised over the keyboard. With Marvel's permission she paused at the best frame, made a still shot and sent it to the Five-0 computer.

Steve's phone rang while Kono worked. "Chin?" he answered it. "Where are you?"

"Back at headquarters. Nothing new in either of the apartments," Chin reported. "No sign of surveillance equipment except there are a couple of worn spots on a tree branch with a good view of Danny's apartment. Might have been a camera clamped there, but it's not there now. Oh, and Peter Aweau is an alias. The ID he gave the landlord was phony."

"OK, Kono's sending you a photo of the guy who bought the furniture. Matches Aweau's description. Run it through facial rec."

"You got it."

"Sending now, cuz," Kono leaned over to speak into McGarrett's phone.

"Thank you," Steve told Marvel as he and Kono rushed out.

"Good luck. I hope you find your friend."

"So do I," Steve said to himself. "So do I."

Don't sit down," Chin said, when his friends rushed into the Five-0 war room. "Just got a hit. Peter Keaweehu, 35. Known enforcer and leg breaker for hire."

"Got an address?"

Chin pulled it up on the big screen.

"Then gear up and let's go," Steve said with determination.

As they jogged out, Chin added, "There's one odd thing. Keaweehu doesn't have a brother."

"Huh, wonder who his lookalike is?" Steve said.

HPD cordoned off the area and SWAT was quietly moving in through the back, while Five-0 took point. When Steve pulled up in front of Keaweehu's home, Peter was sitting on the front porch drinking a beer. The big man didn't seem alarmed to see the black Silverado, but he leaped to his feet when he saw McGarrett.

"Peter Keaweehu!" Steve shouted, pulling his gun.

"We did what you wanted!" Peter shouted back. "Leave us alone!" Seeing Chin and Kono exiting the truck, Peter lunged for the door. "Ben! It's a setup!"

"What the hell was that?" Chin asked Steve.

"I don't know!" Steve answered. "I've never seen him before! Keaweehu!" he shouted. "We just want to talk!" Gunfire answered him.

The Five-0 officers ducked behind the Silverado. "Dammit," Steve said with clenched teeth. "We need these guys to tell us what they did with Danny."

Shots peppered the pickup. "Doesn't look like they want to cooperate," Chin said calmly. "HPD can move up now. We can bottle them up and talk them out."

"We can't wait. Danny may not have the time!"

"They're the ones who aren't waiting!" Kono warned.

A car engine revved inside the garage. The ramshackle door burst apart and the SUV used in the kidnapping charged onto the street.

"No!" Steve exclaimed.

Five-0 scrambled for the Silverado. The powerful pickup roared after the SUV. Steve hunched over the steering wheel in concentration, foot flattening the accelerator. Kono clung grimly with one hand, keeping her gun ready in the other. Over the radio, Chin directed HPD to intercept.

The tailgate of the SUV swung open. Peter crouched there with a shotgun aimed at his pursuers.

"Steve!"

McGarrett swerved and the blast went wide. The shotgun barrel tracked the Silverado, and there was no more room to dodge.

An HPD patrol car zoomed out of a side road, cutting off the SUV. It veered wildly. Peter lost his grip on the shotgun and grabbed for a handhold, but missed. He flew out the back of the SUV. Steve braked frantically but the big Hawaiian's body slammed into the pickup's grille with a sickening crunch and then fell out of sight. The Silverado bounced over a soft bump, with an equally sickening sense of squishiness. Kono gagged at the thought of the mangled body beneath them.

Blocked by HPD, the SUV climbed the curb but bogged down in a muddy garden. Ben fled on foot, firing a pistol as he ran to keep the police at bay.

Steve vaulted out of his blood-spattered pickup, followed by Kono. Chin was barking instructions into the radio, reminding HPD they needed this suspect alive.

Steve tackled Ben, sending the gun flying. The two men disappeared into a thick stand of hibiscus and Steve realized he'd made a possibly fatal mistake. Ben had hand-to-hand combat training equal to that of the Navy SEAL.

Ben spun and flipped Steve over his head. Steve bounced to his feet and struck back. Ben blocked and the two went back and forth — striking, kicking, blocking — neither gaining an advantage, as they thrashed in and out of the dense hibiscus, through the bird of paradise and into the rose garden next door.

"Where's Williams?" Steve demanded.

"You should have left us alone," Ben retorted bitterly.

He pulled a commando knife from behind his neck and lunged at Steve, slashing.

Steve leaped away, bending backwards at the waist to let the blade pass his neck. Then he struck at the knife hand, but Ben blocked the blow with his free hand.

Steve was at a disadvantage. He was trying to subdue Ben for questioning, but Ben was aiming to kill.

The SEAL spun in a tornado kick, but pulled the strike too much. Ben absorbed the blow with his forearm, caught Steve's foot and flipped the commander on his back between two rose bushes. Steve couldn't roll aside. Ben flipped the blade downward and drove it at Steve's belly.

A shot knocked Ben from his feet. He tumbled sideways, falling headlong into the spiky tangle of roses. He screamed when a thorn punctured his eye and a thick barbed stem gouged deep into his neck. He recoiled, doing even more damage as he blindly tore free from the bush, and collapsed on his back on the grass.

Blood seeped from the gunshot wound in his shoulder, but it gushed from his torn throat.

Horrified at the outcome of her careful shot, Kono holstered her gun and rushed to stanch the neck wound. She pressed firmly, but blood continued to pour between her fingers.

"Paramedics, right now!" Steve yelled at Chin who was beating his way through the bushes; then Steve loomed over the dying man.

"Where's Williams?" Steve demanded again. "What did you do with the man you kidnapped?"

Ben's bloody visage focused on Steve's face. "Go to hell!" he said, blood bubbling between his lips.

And then he died, and Steve's hopes of finding Danny died with him.

Kono sank back, legs splayed awkwardly, sobbing in grief and frustration.

Steve stumbled back a step, hand scrubbing through his hair. He knew it was unfair even as he said it, but the words tumbled out, "Why, Kono? Why?"

Tears running down her face, Kono said, "Because Danny would have wanted me to."

**Don't worry, it's still to be continued!**

**That'll teach those Tiger Twins to torture my Danno!  
(Oh, wait, that was my idea, wasn't it. Never mind.)**


	7. Today

**A/N: Remember, this is first season.**

**Chapter 7 - Today**

"His name is Ben Keaweehu. He was Peter's cousin – full cousin, their parents were brothers who married sisters," Chin said after running the fingerprints back at Five-0 headquarters.

"Explains why they looked so much alike," Kono said wearily.

"He had military training," Steve stated, with only mild interest.

"He was special forces, until he was dishonorably discharged," Chin answered. "He came back to the islands and, I guess he started working with cousin Pete, but he hadn't been caught yet, so he didn't have a record with us."

Chin was worried about his teammates' apathy. They both seemed in shock after the death of their best lead, they were sleepwalking through the crime scene clean up and the follow up investigation. "Come on, guys. This isn't the end. We still have evidence to follow. Danny's still out there."

Steve scrubbed his face vigorously, driving away the momentary fog of despair. He couldn't give up on Danny. Kono poured water from a glass into her hand and splashed it on her face.

"We've got to find out everything about these cousins," Steve told Chin. "Talk to everyone they know. Where would they take a prisoner? Someplace secluded."

"I already borrowed some unies from Duke to talk to people who knew the cousins," Chin said. He felt that time was not on Danny's side. If they needed to roust some old auntie out of her bed at 2 a.m., he wasn't going to hesitate. "The more we can find out, the better."

"And the quicker," Kono added. "You coming, boss."

Steve nearly vibrated with his need to be out there, doing something to find Danny. But Chin and Kono had already stopped him from "going Rambo" on two innocent people. He couldn't risk alienating any witnesses who weren't already hostile because of their relatives' gruesome deaths.

"You two, go," Steve said. "Maybe Hawaiian faces will draw more information from this Hawaiian family. I think I'll see if I can track down any of the guys who served with Ben. Maybe he talked about places he liked to go on the island."

It was the middle of the night in Honolulu, but that meant early morning back East at Ben's last post.

Steve didn't fool Chin, but the older man nodded. This division of labor made sense with Steve's military background.

"Go," Steve said.

Chin went, pulling Kono with him, as she set her jaw and focused on the task at hand.

"We'll find him, boss," Kono said in reassurance.

"Of course we will," Steve answered, trying (but failing) to sound confident. He reached for the phone as the others left HQ. "Hang on, Danny," he muttered. "Just a little longer."

* * *

Hours later, when the sun had moved past its crest, Steve's cellphone rang just as he hung up the office phone.

"Chin, I think I got something," he answered the cell, and heard Chin saying, "I think we've got something."

"Go ahead," Steve said.

Chin said a couple of family members remembered the cousins going to an uncle's hunting cabin in the woods. "It's isolated. Way off the beaten track."

"That jibes with what I heard from one of Ben's platoon mates. Tracked him down in Anchorage," Steve answered. "He said when Ben was feeling overcrowded in the barracks, he'd talk about how much he missed his uncle's cabin where there was no one around for miles," Steve said. "But he didn't know where the cabin was."

"I do," Chin answered.

* * *

The black Silverado pickup slid to a halt in front of the isolated cabin.

Fearful, hopeful, the Five-0 trio leaped out, guns ready.

"Danny?" Steve called.

"Don't come any closer!" The voice was hoarse, but familiar.

"Danny!" Relieved and excited, Steve started forward, but a gunshot cracked and a bullet made a puff of dust at his feet. He froze.

The sun had moved to the far side of the cabin. The Five-0 threesome was in full sun, but the porch was in deep shadow. Peering into the gloom, the three saw a huddled shape on the deck. Only the Walther PPK was clearly visible, the barrel glinting in the sunlight beyond the edge of the porch. Braced on the deck and between the railing uprights, the gun was unwavering in its aim.

"Danny, it's us," Kono called.

"Prove it."

"Prove it? What do you want me to say, Book 'em, Danno?" Steve asked, his worry sliding into exasperation.

There was a pause, then the shadowy figure demanded, "How did we meet?"

Steve blinked. He didn't think they'd told anyone the whole story. By the time they'd recruited Chin and Kono, Danny'd had the whole "being shot on the first day" business to rant about. The cousins had never heard the entire "hijacked my crime scene" rant.

"We met in my garage — my father's garage then — pointing guns at each other across the hood of the Marquis."

Kono and Chin looked at him in astonishment. "Pointing guns at each other? Why?" Chin asked.

"Because he was stealing evidence from my crime scene," grumbled the voice from the shadows.

Steve's smirk flickered despite his worry. "So I called the governor and made it my crime scene. Is that good enough, Danno?"

"No," came the flat reply. "Kono, where were you when the fake tsunami warning went off?"

Kono looked nervously at the two men flanking her. "I thought you didn't want me to tell anyone?" she stage-whispered at Danny.

"I don't, didn't. Tell anyway."

"I was on the beach giving you your first surfing lesson," Kono answered the question.

Now the men gaped at her.

"How'd I do?" Danny asked, his firm voice beginning to waver.

Kono smiled. "The siren went off before we could get in the water."

"Wait, you went to Kono for lessons, not me?" Steve was outraged.

Not waiting for a question, Chin ignored his boss and took one step closer to the porch. "Danny, at Side Street I told you I had your back 1,000 percent. Brah, I don't know what happened here but let us help you."

The hand holding the gun drooped and the weapon fell into the dirt. Steve launched himself onto the porch and crouched beside his friend. Danny clutched at his partner's sleeve. "Steve."

"I thought we'd never find you," Steve said hoarsely. He tried to help Danny up, but the blond pushed him away.

"Don't," Danny gasped. "Broken leg."

Steve took his hands away and studied Danny's bound legs. "Femur?"

"If that's the thighbone, yes," Danny said, resting his head back on the railing post.

Steve went for the first aid kit in his car. Chin was already calling for an ambulance.

"Hang on, brah, they're on the way," he reported, giving Danny a comforting touch on the shoulder.

Kono saw Danny was trembling. "Cold? Steve's getting a blanket."

"No. Maybe. Not why I'm shaking. Drugs, too many drugs." He twitched a smile at his young friend. "I'm kinda confused."

"That why you didn't recognize us?" she asked. Her tone was teasing but her question was serious.

"Yes. No." He gave his confused friend a tired smile. "It's complicated."

Careful of his cut and bruised forehead, Kono gently smoothed Danny's messy hair into something resembling his usual style. As she studied him, her sharp eyes spotted something on his makeshift splint.

"Is that blood?"

Steve dropped to his knees to see what she was talking about.

"Not mine," Danny said breathlessly. "The guy … inside. Interrogator."

"Inside!" Steve exclaimed.

Danny was crashing fast. Relief mixed with pain and the cocktail of drugs wearing off. His foggy brain didn't realize what he was sending his friends into until they leaped to their feet and drew their guns. Steve kicked in the door ("Not necessary, it wasn't locked," Danny thought.) Chin backed him up.

Kono started to follow, but Danny lunged and caught her around the knee. He would have pulled her capri pants right off if she'd taken another step; but it was really Danny's cry of agony that stopped her. She dropped beside him again and wrapped her arms around him, though she didn't let go of her gun or take her watchful gaze from the door.

"Easy, I won't leave you," Kono comforted him.

"Not that. You don't need to see that," Danny said. The pain brought a temporary return of clarity.

"Shh, I'm a big girl, Danny," Kono said kindly. "I know I'm only a rookie, but I can take it."

"Not that," Danny answered. "Not that." He closed his eyes and clung to her like a child. Instinctively she wanted to rock him, but she held still to not aggravate his injuries.

The guys had only been gone a moment when Chin came lunging out of the building, hastening away from the crime scene before losing his lunch in the bushes. Danny watched sadly as his friend retched and choked. Kono's eyes were wide with alarm to see her stoic cousin so distraught.

Steve came out running his fingers through his hair in perplexity. He wasn't as badly affected as Chin. Because he was used to seeing himself in the mirror, the resemblance wasn't as striking to his eyes as to Chin's. And, sad to say, the Navy SEAL had seen more than his share of corpses with their heads blown apart.

He sat on the step beside Danny and Kono. "That's why you needed to confirm our identities."

It wasn't a question, but Danny gave a tiny nod.

"That's why the brothers thought they'd been betrayed," Steve told Kono.

"I don't understand," she said.

"The corpse has Steve's face," Chin answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fake Steve. Tried to trick me. Get me to talk about a Jersey case." Danny's voice was fading, almost drowned in the growing sound of an ambulance siren.

"But you fought back," Steve said with admiration, trying to keep his partner awake. "With a broken femur you fought back. You got his gun."

"You knew it wasn't Steve," Kono said.

"I knew. Thought I knew. But what if I'd been wrong?" Danny whimpered.

Danny bottomed out. Beneath Kono's comforting grip, Danny's pulse fluttered, then quit. His breathing choked, then stopped. He slumped in her arms. The last thing he heard was Steve yelling for the EMTs to hurry.

* * *

**Last cliffhanger, I promise. Big finale next time.**


	8. Now

_Last chapter, but still plenty of angst._

**Chapter 8 – Now**

Delirious from fever and disoriented by drugs, Danny woke screaming Steve's name in the hospital. Sobbing at the memory of the body on the floor, Danny cried his friend's name in grief and guilt. But when Steve tried to comfort him, Danny flinched away in fear of the impostor. He struggled to escape.

With his leg was in traction, he felt as if he was tied up again, which added to his confused terror.

He flailed wildly and his friends and his doctors were afraid he would harm himself further.

The young doctor ordered him restrained, but Danny really panicked when they grabbed his arms to strap him down. He fought back, giving one orderly a bloody nose.

"We have to restrain him," the doctor said urgently. "He's going to hurt himself."

"You can't do this," Steve protested. "You'll just scare him more. For God's sake, he was kidnapped and tied up while men beat him. You can't tie him up again!"

"Can't you sedate him?" Kono asked.

"We still don't have the blood work back," the doctor said. "We don't know what drugs are in his system. Anything we give him could kill him."

"Steve!" Danny sobbed.

Steve went to him. "Danny, you've got to calm down," Steve said urgently. "You're going to hurt yourself. You're safe now. Stop fighting."

Danny's face changed horribly when he saw his partner. "No!" he raved in grief and fear. "Get away from me!"

Steve retreated, hovering indecisively near the door. It was unlike him. Steve was always decisive. He might make the wrong decision. He might make a half-assed, life-threatening, lunatic decision, according to Danny, but he was never indecisive.

"Let me try," Kono said. Without waiting for permission, she went to Danny's side, avoided the weak punch he threw at her and hugged him tightly, pulling his face against her hair, as if he was a frightened child.

"It's OK, Danny," she crooned. "It's OK. You're safe now."

Danny struggled against her firm grip, but his resistance began to fade. He sniffed her neck and his movement stilled. "Ugh, coconut."

Kono's heart leaped. She remembered one time she and Danny were following a suspect through a marketplace. The man changed direction and came in their direction. Kono grabbed Danny and kissed him, so the suspect wouldn't see their faces. Danny was startled, but grasped the situation quickly and then grasped her. After the suspect passed them and went into a shop, Kono pushed away. She felt suddenly shy, because this was Danny, a pal but not a boyfriend.

Danny just said, "Ugh, coconut," and wiped his arm across his forehead, which had touched her sunblock-covered forehead. "Kalakaua, if you want to continue making out with me, you'll have to change your line of personal care products," Danny said sternly, causing Kono to laugh and slug him good-naturedly. He wrinkled his nose at her and any discomfort on her part dissolved.

Right now, Kono was glad she still liked coconut-scented body lotion. The familiar though disliked scent seemed to help settle the agitated man.

"Danny, it's me, Kono. Can you open your eyes for me?" she coaxed.

A pair of sad blue eyes opened and tears immediately began to trickle from them.

"Steve's dead," Danny said forlornly, clinging to his teammate. "I killed Steve."

Steve stiffened, suddenly hopeful at hearing sensible sentences, even if the subject matter was confused.

"No, Danny, Steve's alive," Kono corrected calmly. "He's right there by the door. See?"

Danny's eyes shifted and sadness gave way to an animosity that made Steve flinch.

"Fake Steve!" Danny snarled.

"Hallucinating?" the doctor suggested too quiet for Danny to hear, as he made a note on his computer tablet.

"No," Chin answered in a normal speaking voice. "There was an impostor, we all saw his body. We think that's what the drugs were for, to confuse Danny so he wouldn't realize it wasn't really Steve."

"But he did realize," Steve said proudly. "Because he's a great detective."

The detective didn't seem to register the conversation. His angry gaze was still piercing Steve.

"Danny." Chin's sharp voice demanded attention. Danny's eyes shifted to him. "Danny, you know me."

"Chin," Danny agreed.

"Did Fake Steve have Kono or Chin with him?"

Danny's brow furrowed in sudden doubt. "Nooooo," he said hesitantly.

Chin put his hands on Steve's shoulders. "Danny, this is Real Steve. You killed the Fake Steve, not the real one."

Doubt and hope warred on the sick man's face.

"Danno, what can I say to prove I'm really me?" Steve asked.

Awareness was seeping back into Danny's expression. He released his death grip on Kono and lay back on his pillow, but she kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him grounded. The detective regarded the commander.

"Say, 'I like tykes on trikes so I'll take a cake to the lake,'" Danny said finally.

Steve's look of confusion was almost enough by itself to relieve Danny's mind. The doctor looked equally startled, but a wide smile split Chin's face. He'd seen the fingerprint results from the corpse.

"You heard the man," Chin told Steve.

Steve repeated the nonsense phrase, getting the vowels right, then added to Chin, "What the…?"

"We got a hit on the fingerprints," Chin showed a picture of a man who looked a lot like Steve. "Max said he had plastic surgery to increase the likeness then added a few bruises to cover up any imperfections in the new face. He's an expert interrogator, a mercenary for hire, originally from Australia," Chin said. "I'll bet his accent slipped a little. Huh, Danny?"

"A little. Enough," Danny said, hoarsely. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He was almost sure now, but he needed confirmation. "I need a hug," he said, beckoning Steve.

Chin elbowed Steve forward. The SEAL went stiffly, but he went. He gave Danny an awkward hug. Danny pulled him close and sniffed.

Steve stiffened. Had Danny really smelled his hair. That went beyond awkward, firmly into the dead center of embarrassing.

But now Danny was certain. Steve smelled like Steve, sour from worry and neglected hygiene, perfumed with too much antiseptic and stale coffee from being in the hospital too long, but recognizably Steve.

Danny leaned his head against his partner's chest. Steve recognized that he'd passed some sort of test and regained his friend's trust. He gave Danny a quick but genuine hug, then pushed away to look his friend in the eye.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"

Danny gave a quick headshake. "Sorry, it's classified."

The look Steve gave him was the icing on the cake. Steve's familiar aneurism face brought tears to Danny's eyes, turning aneurism face into worried face.

"I was sure at first, but then I got so confused," Danny tried to explain. His fists clenched around Steve's shirt. "I thought I'd killed the wrong one. What if I was wrong?"

"You weren't wrong," Steve said fondly.

Danny lay back, feeling relaxed despite aching ribs, shaky hands, weepy eyes and a leg in traction. "I wasn't wrong," he sighed in relief. "I wasn't wrong."

**The End**


End file.
